Yuk Stickers and Consulting Detectives
by TheWordsToYourFavoriteSong
Summary: John mentally swore at Sherlock from the discomfort of his hospital bunk. "knock, knock," came a certain inspector detective's voice from the door, "you know, I think he's genuinely sorry about this one, he's downstairs in the gift shop trying to find a card that says 'sorry for having your stomach pumped'." Lestrade said as he walked in grinning. "Downright charming that one."


**Yuk Stickers and Consulting Detectives**

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><p>John trudged sleepily down the stairs, pajama shirt askew, and hair mussed. He walked past the mess on the kitchen table and sighed. John Watson had long resigned himself to the fact that it would never, <em>ever<em> be clean. No, the kitchen table was destined for a lifetime of chemical burns, decaying biological matter, and mysterious scratches.

Remembering his reason for getting out of bed, he continued to the fridge. Upon opening it, he spotted his prize. He took out the sweet, sweet juice and reached for a tumbler in the cupboard. He watched as the silky amber fluid spilled seductively into the unworthy glass. Putting the carton away, he brought the cool drink to his dry mouth and let the heavenly golden liquid flow past his lips.

"Ahk!"

John spluttered, and promptly spat the fiery concoction into the sink. Nose wrinkled in disgust, he shouted angrily towards his flatmate's bedroom.

"SHERLOCK!"

He dumped the rest of the toxic fluid down the drain, listening as it sizzled and oozed its way to the London sewer.

_Eugh..._ he shuddered at the thought of what could be crawling through his system.

Sherlock burst into the kitchen, his blue dressing gown falling from his lanky frame and hair sticking out in odd directions. "What is it John? Have they hatched?" he inquired gleefully, bright eyes searching the ceiling.

"W-what?" John asked looking about. "Have _what_ hatched? Sherlock what are you-" his stomach churned violently, and he clutched the counter. "No. No, no, no. I don't want to know." John said taking a shaky breath, "What I DO want to know, is what you have done to the sodding juice!"

"Oh, is that all?" Sherlock's previous excitement was replaced with an expression of boredom. "It's just an experiment concerning several chemicals from the nursing home case, you know the one-" He continued, "Nothing to worry about really, judging by the size of that glass you can't have ingested more than a milligram of nitroglycerin-"

"NITROGLYCERIN?" John shouted, "Sherlock, have I been drinking NITROGLYCERIN?"

"Among other things."

John couldn't help but gape at the detective.

Sherlock scoffed.

"Come now John, you're a doctor," he defended himself, "surely you know that nitroglycerin is sometimes used in small doses to treat heart patients with angina-"

"I'M NOT A HEART PATIENT SHERLOCK!" John bellowed. He took out his phone with shaky fingers as a wave of nausea hit him, and dialed 999.

"Yu-hoo?" Mrs. Hudson cooed from the door, "What's all the shouting about? Are you boys okay? It's nearly three o'clock in the morning..."

The world's only consulting detective sighed and made shooing motions. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson, all is well-"

"No, all is _not_ well Sherlock, THIS IS NOT OKAY!" John roared as his call went through.

"Oh dear, I can see I've come at a bad time," Mrs. Hudson sighed, "I'll just come back later...oh Sherlock, you really should clean up after yourself, no wonder John is so upset!" She said as she began to straighten up the pillows on the couch, "I'm not your housekeeper you know."

John was just about ready to bludgeon Sherlock with his mobile when finally someone answered.

"999, what's your emergency? Fire, police, or ambulance?" answered the chipper emergency operator.

"Ambulance, right away please."

John began to feel dizzy.

"Location sir?"

"221 B Baker Street, my flatmate's made me to drink nitroglycerin and God knows what else- on its way? Thank you- Yes, this is the same fellow who called last week. Yes, same flatmate. Oh, so you think this is funny? Well I don't bloody think so-" John's head began to spin, and the operator's voice seemed to reach him from someplace very far away.

"Hello? Hello, are you alright sir?" Was the last thing John heard before his vision went hazy, and the ground came up to roughly meet his bad shoulder.

_That's it. _Thought John as he stared up at the ceiling from the stiff, clean hospital bed.

This was the last straw.

_This is the last time I get POISONED by one of his experiments!_

"knock, knock," came a certain inspector detective's voice from the door, "you know, I think he's genuinely sorry about this one, he's downstairs in the gift shop trying to find a card that says 'sorry for having your stomach pumped'" Lestrade said as he walked in grinning. "Downright charming that one."

John sighed

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><p>Hey guys. So, I've been working on a bunch of stuff for a few years now and have finally worked up the guts to just publish something!<p>

This story will be a fun one about John forcing the use of "Yuk" stickers on Sherlock for anything inedible. I'm not finished with it yet, but I would really appreciate some constructive criticism, and some mention of whether or not people would like me to continue it. :)

Hopefully, it will motivate me to keep going!

Thanks,

TheWordsToYourFavoriteSong


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